


Living in The Real World

by orphan_account



Series: Accustomed (or: Taylor is a girl) [2]
Category: Paramore
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Strap-Ons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:24:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6734152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ain't it fun living in the real world?</p><p>(Taylor and Hayley celebrate winning that Grammy.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living in The Real World

**Author's Note:**

> hello! it's me. it's been a while. life has been busy. i got a new job and am going back to school. life is kind of nuts at the moment. i've missed you all a lot and i'm happy to be back in the game.
> 
> this is a porn-a-rific follow up to 'grown accustomed,' in which taylor is a cis lesbian and hayley is all about that life. this is set in 2015 on the night that pmore won the grammy for ain't it fun (i flipped out, so i can only imagine how they felt). hayley is 26 and taylor is 25.
> 
> disclaimer: i do not own either of the individuals involved in this story, nor do i own their likenesses. any situation depicted is entirely fictional. if you are involved in this story, please click the back button, don't google yourself, and have a lovely evening with your significant other as your current gender identity and sexuality.
> 
> enjoy, and as always, thank you for reading.

“We won a Grammy!” Taylor shouts. 

Hayley can hear the pitter patter of her footsteps. She bursts into hysterics when Taylor comes bounding into the room with a reluctant Tom Jones cradled in her arms. His stupid squishy face is almost engulfed by his fluff. Taylor needs to stop feeding that cat so much.

“We did,” Hayley says. 

Her phone is blowing up with congratulations of all kinds, and her elation is frankly exhausting. They did that! She and Taylor wrote this one together, and it won a huge award - _the_ huge award. 

Tom Jones leaps out of Taylor’s arms, landing with a thunk and running away. Taylor plops on the couch and crawls toward Hayley with intent, trying to take the remote out of her hand as she changes the channel. Once Hayley gets to AMC, she stuffs it down the side of the couch so Taylor can’t turn off the TV as easy. She’s been excited about The Walking Dead for weeks, talking about it nonstop and even requesting that they not go to the award show so she could watch. (Hayley knows that with all of Taylor’s griping she’s secretly relieved; she hates award shows.) 

Taylor’s not going to make it easy for her, it seems, what with her strong hands and grazing her teeth over Hayley’s earlobe. “Let’s celebrate.” 

“You can wait an hour,” Hayley says, keeping her resolve even as Taylor starts kissing her neck. Taylor is evil.

“You can TiVO it, can’t you?” Taylor says, pouting. She peppers her cheeks with kisses.

“Stop it,” Hayley says, but softens the words with a kiss on the lips. “One hour, then I’m yours.”

Hayley’s not sure if it’s just her anticipation of the episode or if it’s also Taylor getting her riled up, but this is the best season opener ever. Taylor’s not terribly into zombies, but she’s a good sport who indulges Hayley’s weekly addiction, and thus has a working knowledge of the show’s finer points. Even though they’re both watching with baited breath, Taylor’s hand is still on the small of Hayley’s back, rubbing small circles. When the credits roll, Hayley keeps still, looking intently at every name.

“Hayley,” Taylor says.

“Taylor,” Hayley says.

“ _Hayley._ ”

“I need to know who the Best Boy was,” Hayley says.

That bit of information went by ages ago but Taylor doesn’t need to know that. When it flips to the next show, Hayley fishes out the remote and turns the TV off. She turns to Taylor, who has been on her haunches and staring at her for the past ten minutes. She pushes down the strap of Hayley’s tank top under her off-the-shoulder tee. 

“Oh I dunno. I think there are some dishes in the sink. Also, have you fed Mr Jones?”

“Did them, fed him, let’s go,” Taylor says, and lifts Hayley off the couch, throwing her over her shoulder. Gone are the days when she couldn’t do that. 

Taylor nearly steps on Tom Jones, who howls as he runs away toward the little nook Taylor built for him in the den. Neither of them need to see their feet, though. They could both find their way around this place in the dark, this home they’ve made together. Taylor lets her family use the house she bought for herself, back when they weren’t sure what their future would be. They exist in the space here, long past the point of being just Hayley’s home. 

Taylor contributes her roadside treasures and weird yard sale finds; Hayley picks patterns and crafts out of scraps on the web. Their fridge is covered with magnets and reminders. Lining the walls and mantles are framed pictures of their exploits - Taylor jumping into the sea in New Zealand, Hayley below the Cat Bus at the Ghibli Museum in Tokyo, a photo of both of them at the Grand Canyon, taken by an old woman in a straw hat. Band shots and platinum records. Polaroids of them, the band, and the crew on the road. Copies of old family portraits. As Taylor takes her up the stairs, huffing and puffing about how she’s heavy, she’s filled with a rush of trust and love.

When they get to their bedroom (queen bed, black bookcase, soft blue walls, sheer curtains), Taylor unceremoniously drops Hayley on the bed and crawls on top of her. Though she’s still fit as a fiddle, Taylor’s not as stressfully skinny as she used to be. She’s more present in every sense of the word. Thicker thighs, stronger waist, bigger breasts, tattooed arms - the outside finally reflects the inside. She’s letting her hair grow out again after years of cutting it short (which had been a fuck you to the community that rejected her) and Hayley can’t get enough. It’s falling in her face, which is completely makeup free. Hayley’s working on unbuttoning Taylor’s shirt, but her fingers keep slipping.

“Why would you wear this, why, why,” Hayley says, finally managing to get it all the way undone. Taylor’s just wearing a bra underneath, a black and red one Hayley got her this past Christmas. She wiggles out of the shirt and lets it fall somewhere on the bed.

“Some of us like to wear real clothes. Though I do like the easy access.” Taylor presses her hand between Hayley’s legs through her pajama pants.

“That’s what I’m saying! Stop for a second,” Hayley says. 

She unhooks Taylor’s bra and Taylor sits up to take it off. Hayley quickly rids herself of her shirt (she hasn’t had a bra on since 4pm) and signals at Taylor to lay on her back. She does, but not all the way, propping her head on the pillows so she can watch Hayley shimmy out of her pants, keeping her panties on. She gives a dorky little tease on the edge of the bed, on her knees, futzing with the underwear but not taking it off. It’s more cutesy than sexy, but she loves to get Taylor crazy so she’ll pounce when she can’t take it anymore. She makes grabby hands but Hayley backs away whenever she gets marginally close. 

“You are the worst person who has ever lived,” Taylor says, completely monotone. She’s now sitting like a pretzel.

“You mean the best,” Hayley says, leaning in just enough so Taylor thinks she has a shot.

This backfires, because Taylor manages to grab her and tug her so she’s lying in Taylor’s lap. She still has her pants on, which is totally unfair, but Hayley allows her the victory by guiding her hand to her panties so she can slide them off her. Normally, this would lead to fingers and biting kisses, but Taylor’s just looking down at her curiously. 

“Ground control to Major Taylor,” Hayley says, waving a hand in front of her face. “You okay in there?”

Taylor gives a vague nod and bites her lip. Her eyes change and, well, Hayley knows that look very well. 

When people first meet them, they always assign straight gender roles to them, with Taylor being dominant and Hayley being submissive, or Taylor’s the boy and Hayley’s the girl. Hayley used to think that way herself, even at the start of things with Taylor; didn’t every relationship need that equilibrium? But it’s way more complicated than that. They do things in turn, based on skill and dexterity and knowledge more than what’s stereotypical. Sure, Hayley wears dresses and Taylor wears more boyish stuff, but that’s just style. Taylor owns one or two dresses (black of course) and looks great in them. All that little stuff that makes them atypical.

And, to put it bluntly, Taylor loves getting fucked.

She’ll do it the other way around if Hayley asks, but Hayley knows it’s not her favorite. Hayley much prefers other things anyway, so she’ll gladly fuck Taylor into next week. Watching her alone could get her off five times over. Knees hooked around Hayley’s back, arms around her back, urging her deeper, deft fingers roaming. On her hands and knees, where Hayley can grasp her still razor sharp hips and go, ass smacking into Hayley’s own hips. Even on the rare occasions when she’s on top, grinding, bouncing. It’s like Hayley’s breaking her apart and putting her back together, better, stronger. There are so many instances in which she has to be assertive and no-nonsense when working, on her guard and ready with the next barb when with the guys, playing a personality she’s crafted for interviews. This lets her be vulnerable and soft in ways she can’t be otherwise. 

“Do you want me to fuck you?” Hayley says, putting her thumb on Taylor’s lip.

“Yeah,” she says, eyes blown and glassy, lips full and red.

“Yeah what?” Hayley says. This is part of the game. She used to feel weird about it, but now she loves seeing Taylor like this.

“I want you to fuck me,” Taylor says, grabbing onto Hayley’s forearm.

“You know I will, baby,” Hayley says, giving Taylor a lingering, sticky kiss. “Lay down. Stay. I’ll be right back.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Taylor lay down and pull her pants off, spreading herself out. Hayley doesn’t want to get too far ahead of herself. It’s been a while since they used the strap - since they’ve been home for any length of time that lets them. Even with everyone understanding their relationship, tour sex is generally about blowing off steam after the voltage a show gives them. There are few things hotter than watching Taylor perform. She puts her whole heart and soul into every note she plays, every beat she drums out - not to mention her stage outfit this tour were sinfully fitted. (Hayley can now say she has had sex in most amphitheater dressing rooms in the country.)

No one looks sexy with a strapon. That’s just a fact. Hayley thinks she looks extra absurd because she’s so tiny. The one they picked out together (online, while cuddling, beet red with laughter and embarrassment) is more sizable than they had anticipated and an electric blue color. (It doesn’t look like an actual dick though, on Taylor’s insistence.) Once she gets it tucked into the harness she turns around and throws out her arms, doing jazz hands. “Tada!”

Taylor, who has apparently been touching herself this whole time, pauses to applaud her. Yeah, Hayley’s keeping her on her back tonight. 

Hayley climbs on the bed and puts her arms on either side of her, dipping down for a kiss. “You good to go?”

“Been there,” Taylor says.

Hayley teases her with the head of the dildo, which makes her writhe against the sheets, sharp hipbones straining against her pretty skin. 

“You know what,” Hayley says. “I think you can wait.”

“No, fuck you,” Taylor says, and Hayley knows it’s just from sexual frustration. 

“It’ll be good. Trust me.” Hayley crawls down her body and pushes back on her thighs so her legs are up. Hayley looks up at her and huffs a laugh that sends a visible chill through Taylor’s body.

“Okay, I can allow this,” she breathes, and Hayley laughs again before sealing her lips over her clit.

Even after all this time, Hayley still gets excited about eating Taylor out. She remembers the first time they did it, still teenagers and wigged out. They had been dating for almost a year when they finally broke down and locked themselves in Hayley’s apartment for the day. Taylor’s pussy tasted and smelled just as good as it does now, with Taylor’s quivering hips beneath Hayley’s hands. She’s already wet in anticipation, so Hayley’s mouth just adds fuel to that fire, her sighs turning into moans as Hayley struggles to hold her down, lest she get clocked in the face by an upward motion. Everything is rough and tumble tonight, a celebration of their hard work and struggle these past few years, as both a couple and as a songwriting duo.

“Please fuck me, I’m gonna come,” Taylor whines.

Hayley nods and settles on her knees, pulling Taylor’s hips up so she can line her cock up. She runs the tip up and down Taylor’s pussy, then pauses, leaning over to the drawer to fish out some lube. After checking it’s the right kind, she slicks up the dildo just enough for smooth sailing. 

“What now?” Taylor groans.

“Do you want rug burn like you got last time?” Hayley says. Taylor shakes her head no, probably recalling how painful it was to pee for a day or two.

“Just please, please hurry up,” Taylor says, squirming. She looks so pretty and inviting right now.

“I like it when you beg,” Hayley says before pushing inside. 

She wishes she could feel this, but the look on Taylor’s face is enough. It’s one of those nights where she doesn’t have to be slow, nor does she want to. After easing them into a synced rhythm, Hayley begins fucking Taylor in earnest, hard enough so her hips sting a little with every thrust. She loves having her own house, no more apartments with choked back noises and muffled affirmations. Sex in your own house means learning that your girlfriend is, in fact, a screamer. Taylor’s not quite there at the moment, but she’s biting her hand, which means she’s pretty close to that point.

“How you doing, baby?” Hayley asks, punctuating that with a particularly hard thrust. “You’re so beautiful.”

“‘M good,” Taylor says, raspy from lack of proper air.

Hayley grins, tracing a line between Taylor’s breasts to her navel with her fingertip. If it were possible, she’d be fucking Taylor even harder, but the moans she’s eliciting from her are already gorgeous. Hayley herself is so turned on, wetness spreading beyond her pussy and creeping to her inner thighs. When Taylor wraps her legs around Hayley’s waist, her crossed feet push Hayley down just enough to steal a bruising kiss from her, one that will leave her lips swollen for hours and hours. As Hayley hits that sweet spot over and over, Taylor’s moans turn into yelps. Her luscious long hair is fanned out on the pillow beneath her head. Fuck, she’s so beautiful. 

“You’re so amazing,” Hayley says, slowing her hips to a deep roll. “I”m so lucky.”

“I’m close,” Taylor says. “Fuck me harder -”

Hayley simply nods and speeds up her rhythm, her hips slapping against Taylor’s thighs loudly. Taylor’s breasts move with every thrust, and it’s a weird combination of hot and hilarious. No matter what, sex is always going to be a bit funny - at least when it comes to them. She can’t even count the number of times she’s almost farted while they were getting down to business. 

“Your boobs are enjoying themselves,” Hayley says, poking one as it shifts up.

Taylor laughs, shoulders shaking. “Sorry Ms. A-Cup. It’d be way worse if I was riding you.”

“Who said I didn’t like it?” Hayley says with a particularly hard pump that makes Taylor choke. 

Alright, enough banter, back to business. It takes Hayley a few seconds to find her rhythm again, but once she does, it’s hot and fast, slick and quick. Hayley’s hips are starting to sting from the impact, but she powers through, a growl escaping her lips. Taylor below her is blissed out, pretty coral lips wet, skin glowing with condensation. Her stomach is quivering from the promise of release, a vibration Hayley can feel in the hand that she places just shy of her navel. Taylor’s gasps have an edge to them, high and desperate, and fuck, she’s so close, Hayley’s heart is racing -

“Don’t stop, don’t stop,” Taylor cries out. “Oh fuck, Hayley -”

“Like I would - even dream of that -” Hayley manages to gasp out, all this motion knocking the wind right out of her. 

Somehow, by the grace of the almighty God above, Hayley finds the strength in her to push harder into Taylor. The force of their movement rocks their bed, and Hayley can’t help but laugh at that. Taylor would probably be laughing too if she wasn’t about to burst, legs wrapped around Hayley’s waist and squeezing. Her hair is fanned across her pillow, and Hayley can’t help but think she looks like an angel, complete with a halo. She leans down, capturing her angel’s lips in a bruising kiss, not letting up the pace.

“Fuck, Hayley,” Taylor breathes out. “I’m gonna come -”

“Oh yeah,” Hayley says, kissing her again. “C’mon, come for me, angel -”

It seems like those are the magic words, Taylor practically screaming as she comes. Hayley wishes she could feel this right now, feel Taylor pulse around her cock, but she contents herself with looking at her face, a picture of perfect ecstasy, mouth open as she rides out her orgasm with Hayley still inside her. Her cries fade into the best of whimpers; Hayley can only imagine how raw and open Taylor feels, wrapped up in sensation. When she shifts up, propped up on her elbows, she’s panting, eyes heavy lidded.

“Get that thing off,” Taylor says. “C’mon. Wanna touch you.”

“Fine, fine,” Hayley says, mock annoyed, but she’s never taken the strap off faster in her life.

Once she’s free from her confines, she crawls over to Taylor, lying down beside her and spreading her legs subconsciously. Taylor grins as she slides her hand torturously slow down Hayley’s torso, reaching between her legs to rub at her pussy. Once she’s there, though, her hand speeds up, fingers dipping inside her and thrusting as she moves forward to suck on Hayley’s earlobe, hot breath rushing all over her neck. When Hayley moans, she can feel Taylor grin as her fingers slip out of her. Without any warning, she starts to rub her clit rapid fire in circles. Hayley is thankful she’s already so wet - otherwise, this would be bad news bears. Instead, she’s awash in sensation, her impending orgasm a tantalizing thought in the distance. 

“You like that?” Taylor says, voice dripping with lust. When she wants to be, she can be quite the dirty talker.

“Y-Yeah,” Hayley croaks out, pushing her hips up into Taylor’s deft hand.

“C’mon, baby, come for me,” Taylor says, echoing Hayley’s command from before.

It’s almost as though Hayley has needed permission all this time to let go. She’s never been a shouter, but she sucks in her breath as she comes, letting out a little squeak on the exhale. Her orgasm slams into her, seizing all control of her body. Her nipples are aching, her pussy is twitching, and her mind is on fire. All she can think about is Taylor - how amazing she is, how quick her hands are, how beautiful her smile is.

Finally, finally, the violence quiets down, and she’s left reeling in Taylor’s almost embrace. For a moment, they just stare at each other, unmoving, unfaltering. Then, at the same time, they burst into quiet laughter, the kind that only lovers can know. Hayley moves forward into Taylor’s strong arms, pressing her body against Taylor’s until they’re practically fused together. When she speaks, it feels like she’s kissing Taylor’s shoulder.

“Happy Grammy Day,” Hayley says, breaking their comfortable silence.

Taylor giggles. “We sure did win that Grammy, didn’t we?”

“I’d personally like to thank Fiji and hotel hot tubs,” Hayley says, and they both laugh at that.

“I love you,” Taylor says, quiet, like it’s a secret.

Hayley doesn’t know when they stopped saying ‘I love you’ often, but it’s become more of a thing that’s understood than said. Hayley’s had trouble grappling with that, being a goober who wears her heart on her sleeve, but she figured it made Taylor happy. The less demonstrative the better. Sure, sometimes she longs to just bust out with it at random, but she knows that Taylor wouldn’t be down with that. Whatever makes her happy. It isn’t as though they haven’t built an entire world for one another.

“I love you too,” Hayley says, because she does, she does so fucking much.

“We should say it more often,” Taylor says. “I miss it.”

“That’s just the sex talking,” Hayley says, smiling, but Taylor swats at her.

“I’m being serious,” Taylor says. “I’m sorry it takes sex to loosen me up. It’s just... I’m just really proud of us. This song we made that apparently the Grammys think is cool, too. It just reminds me of how much I love you, so why shouldn’t I tell you that? It’s not like I don’t think it all the time.”

Hayley wants to cry, but she’s not going to, because that would ruin the moment. “I just wanted to make you happy, and if that meant not saying it, that’s fine with me.”

“Oh, Hayley,” Taylor says, squeezing Hayley further into her. “Gosh, we’re both so dumb.”

“Sex makes my brain leak out of my ears,” Hayley says. “You have to stop being so hot.”

“You’re the one who has to stop being hot,” Taylor says. “And talented. And smart, and funny. I -”

“I love you,” Hayley says at the same time. 

They both separate to look each other in the eye. The deja vu is overwhelming, except they were much younger back then, a time when everything was still new. Now that they know each other so well, those words are layered with everything they’ve been through since that warm summer evening a million years ago.

“Remember when -” Hayley start, but is cut off by Taylor.

“We said I love you at the same time after fighting about Chad Gilbert?” Taylor says. “Yeah, I remember that.”

“I kind of want to call Chad and thank him,” Hayley says. “Y’know, for overstepping his boundaries and making us fight.”

“Not while we’re both naked, please,” Taylor says, face wrinkled with disdain. “You can call him in the morning.”

“Oh, speaking of,” Hayley says, remembering their fucking Grammy, for goodness sake. All this lovey dovey business. “My phone is probably blown up into space with texts.”

“Mine too,” Taylor says. “Wanna check ‘em?”

Hayley thinks about it for a second. Does she really? “...Nah.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Taylor says. “Bed now.”

Hayley nods as they both shuffle up to get under the covers. Once they’re settled, Taylor turns around - it’s her turn to be little spoon. After turning off the lamp, she fits her ass into the curve of Hayley’s hips as Hayley throws an arm around her waist and clings for what feels like dear life. The silence that settles is calm, not forced, and Hayley feels herself drifting in and out of consciousness.

“I love you,” Taylor whispers, just when Hayley’s about to fall asleep.

“I love you too,” Hayley whispers back. She presses a kiss into Taylor’s back. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Taylor says, probably already drifting away. 

Hayley closes her eyes, letting herself get carried away with her thoughts for a moment. She smiles as a thought settles into her head, one she hasn’t thought in quite some time.

It’s fun living in the real world, as long as that real world is with Taylor.

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to follow me on tumblr! i'm toallofourfavoriteparts, since materialism was taken. headcanons, prompts, and top ten worst taylor outfits welcome.


End file.
